The Steps We Take
by mysongsknowwhatudidinthelight
Summary: Sometimes, a glimmer of hope can come in a simple outstretched hand. BLANKET DISCLAIMER: I don't own Death Note. Matt & Mello- adult themes, violence, profanity.
1. Partner

**A/N So here it is! A fanfiction I've been meaning to write for months. I'm so happy I'm finally getting around to doing it! Disclaimer: I don't own Nintendo.**

**Much thanks to ~Annibell12, ~Randomkiwi, and ~Kitty1802.**

* * *

If there had been bystanders in the empty parking garage stairwell, they would probably be intimidated by the slender blond man in the corner. Surrounded by shadows, his face hidden by a fur-lined hood, the vibe given off by the leather-wearer would feel dangerous to those who don't know him- and stressed to those who did.

He sighed, taking out a bar of chocolate from his pocket with his left hand, and a cell phone with his right. Flipping open the device, Mello pressed two buttons and then lifted it to his ear, taking a bite of the half-melted sweet.

_Ring... Ring... Ring_... "Mello?" asked a kindly voice.

"Watari. I need your help with something."

The older, mustached man on the other end of the line was taken aback. Mello, the competitive runner-up, was asking for help?  
"S-sure. What do you need?"

"A partner. I need someone to work with. The mafia is good at following my commands, but, well, they're in the mafia. I suspect I'm the only one with an IQ over 100."

"I-I have to admit I'm surprised. What brought this on?"

Mello sighed, and answered, "I was sitting in the base the other day, and I realized... Well, no one gets me. They respect me, but they're too scared of me to actually try and talk to me."

Watari hummed in agreement. "I understand how frustrating that must be. What kind of qualities does your partner need?"

"Well..." the blond thought for a moment. "I'd prefer a man, so none of the guys get any, let's say, ideas. Also he should be smart, confident, able to stand up for himself. And," the blond sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Let's face it, I need some _happiness_ in my life. So, preferably, he has some emotion. And a good sense of humor. Do you know anyone like that?"

Watari turned in his chair and typed into his laptop, accessing the Wammy's house network. He paused, waiting for the results to load, then smiled.  
"Mello, I know someone perfect. I'll have him get in touch, okay?"

"Fine," was the impartial, slightly nervous response. "Thank you." With that, Mello's phone was snapped shut and the blond exited the musky stairwell, hopping on a motorcycle and driving away.

* * *

Cigarette smoke polluted the air as a man with vibrant red hair sat hunched on a couch, a Nintendo DS held in his hands. He sighed and paused the orange-tinted game as his pocket vibrated, and withdrew the phone concealed inside.

"Hello?"

"Matt, it's Watari. I need you to go to Los Angeles."


	2. An Introduction to Matt

A/N: Oh hey look, it's a fast update! Woo! Okay. Read on, reader!

* * *

As a child, Matt was always a sort of outcast. Even after his parents died and he was sent to a school/orphanage full of kids his age, he was alone. Sometimes, when he could hear screaming matches down the halls, he relished in his lonesome existence. No one to know; therefore no one to fight with, or hate.

God knows he had seen enough violence and hate- his dad killing his mom and then himself, and all.

Matt thought he would finally be able to get rid of his bruises -the only reminder of his parents, besides the images that flashed behind closed eyelids- and make some friends for real. But Wammy's was evil; the girls mocked and laughed, the boys taunting and keeping the bruises there. Finally, realizing he had no chance of ever being accepted, he drew back to his empty room- and there he stayed during every minute of free time he had until he turned 18.

Monthly, on his way back to his room from class, he would stop by the bulletin board that held the rankings. It was always a bit of a start to see he ranked third because this was his first school. Rankings seemed to be important at Wammy's- the kid above him, Mello, would throw tantrums about being second until he left at an early age that Matt didn't remember.

To Matt, life was simple: you're either violent or lonely, and then you die. There were no complications. He was lonely, others were lonely, and others were violent. Of course, there was love; but being gay meant that you were shunned, and still lonely.

Matt still doesn't like thinking about love. He just thinks about his video games and how much money he'll have to take when he hacks into millionaire's bank accounts.

Of course, he still hopes that one day he'll find true love -don't we all?- but for now, he'll just do what Watari asks him and head to Los Angeles.


	3. An Introduction to Mello

**A/N: Sorry this took so long, guys! But, since I'm on my school's volleyball team, I have as much free time as a soldier. Which is to say, NONE. Plus my muse is a bitch. So, yeah. Update! Woo!**

**Reviews please?**

* * *

Mello's life has always been full of three things: despair, loneliness, and chocolate.

Despair, because there's never been a positive prospect in his life. He's never had any real chances, just false hopes and dreams that have led him to fall into the black hole of leather and mafia he currently inhabits.

Loneliness, because he's never had anyone to trust. His mother died in childbirth- but he survived, driving his father to madness- and suicide a year later. No orphanages wanted the sour-faced, violent infant or would deal with him long enough to make any friends- not until Wammy's. By then, our favorite blonde was six and pushed everyone away- he thought they would reject him again, and didn't want to bear making connections that would be viciously torn away. Sadly, this mindset stayed well into his teenage years, including when he left Wammy's and joined the Mafia.

Chocolate because, well, it's _chocolate. _ Ever since the boy got his first bite of the sweet, he never let his person be void of at least three bars at all times. Need I say more?

And now our hero in the present was slouching on the zebra-striped couch we all know and love, thinking back to his Wammy's days. Surprisingly little was found; besides L, Near, and being first, Mello's life at the orphanage didn't consist of much. He didn't remember having any friends- in fact he didn't really notice anyone besides the aforementioned geniuses.

Mello didn't normally think about those days, he was only reminded of Wammy's because Watari told him his new partner hailed from the same place. He sighed, wondering when this new guy was going to show up. He checked his watch for the fiftieth time that day, knowing that Mail would be landing at LAX soon. At that moment, his phone rung. Without even checking who it was, he picked it up.

"I'll be there soon." Mello said this flatly without waiting for a response, and hung up.

He stood up and walked to the door, pausing only to grab a leather jacket, keys, and a sleek black motorcycle helmet.


	4. Home?

Matt took a long, final drag of his cigarette before dropping it to the ground and crushing it underneath a thick black boot. He'd been waiting for what seemed like hours in the crushing, stagnant heat of Los Angeles. The phone in his hand had only been used once, and that was when he called his new boss… No, his new "partner." Matt shook his shaggy red hair, then brushed his overlong bangs out of his eyes. He's done this whole partner thing before and it usually ended up more as a butler/boss relationship. He wondered, for the umpteenth time, why on Earth he kept doing this to himself. Didn't he ever learn that the crumpled, wilted blossom of hope in his heart was just going to be stepped on again and again until only crunched, gray flakes remained? Apparently not, because there he stood again, waiting for his newest disappointment.

Matt shifted his weight to his other leg in impatience and his mind wandered from his hopeless idiocy to Mihael. Lots can happen in thirteen years and Matt wondered who Mihael would be now. For some reason, he's had this picture of a sleek, suited man with short, greasy blonde hair arriving in a Mercedes with tinted windows. Being in the Mafia, he had to have money- or at least connections to people with money. He sighed, knowing he looked like a teenage bum- which he barely was, but still. He knew that Mihael would react poorly to his choice of attire and sat down, resigning to boredom and his DS.

* * *

Simultaneously cursing himself and the other drivers, Mello was racing down the interstate on a sleek, black Suzuki- undoubtedly his favorite of the five motorcycles he owned. His delicately layered hair and thick bangs were protected, as was the rest of his head in a black helmet. In his favorite leather pants and shirt (both of which were tight in the right places), he looked like a girl. This was the one time he didn't mind his feminine appearance. He was late to pick up Mail, and _no one_ fucks with a biker chic. The drivers think that the girls are sensitive, and the fellow bikers know that they will kick your ass if you even suggest getting in their way. Mello grinned, twisting his wrist and feeling his motorcycle speed up underneath him, leaving his stomach behind.

* * *

Fifteen minutes after beating Pokemon, Matt was still on the curb of the airport waiting area, waiting for Mihael. The Goddamned asshole probably forgot about him. He got out his phone to call the only other contact besides Watari and Roger in his phone when he heard the unmistakable growl of a motorcycle. Enraptured, he saw a tightly-clothed girl zoom down the entrance ramp in a black motorcycle, a helmet completely covering her face. She steered the bike towards the pickup zone and Matt stared openly at her. She slowed down and stopped... In front of him. The engine was cut and the rider removed her helmet. Matt's eyes widened as he realized two things-

1) "She" was a "he."

2) He had the same haircut Mihael had when he was eight.

So, obviously, the first wise words that came out of the redhead's mouth were:

"Damn Mihael, you couldn't find a new hairstyle in the thirteen years you've been out of Wammy's?"

Mihael's response was calmer than he thought it would be. "No, dumbass, this one just suits me the best. And it's Mello, not Mihael."

Mih-Mello ran a hand through his hair, totally nonchalant as if he picked up people from the airport on a motorcycle while wearing tight leather all the time. Matt shook his head, breaking out of the reverie Mello caused, and replied.

"If we're not going through any formalities then, I'm not Mail anymore. I changed it to Matt when I left." The redhead picked up his bags and looked at the motorcycle. "How are we supposed to bring these back?"

Mello raised an eyebrow, smirking. He spread his arms out wide, a la Rose from _Titanic._ "Look around you, Matthew. These people are my people. They've been watching you, making sure you're not working for someone else or that you've been bugged." He spun around and beckoned over the security guard at the entrance to the airport. The guard was big and burly, with no hair and low-set eyebrows. He walked- no, lumbered- over, obviously with a great amount of fear and respect for the blonde.

"He's good. No bugs the tools can detect, no one's spoken to him, and he's stayed here the entire time," the guard said.

"Thank you, Rod, you've been very helpful. Now, please take Mr. Jeevas' bags to the car. He, sadly, won't be accompanying you." He waved away Rod with a 'run-along-now' gesture, the type that Roger's used on Matt countless times.

"Where will I be riding, then?" Matt asked, confusion showing in his knit eyebrows.

"With me, obviously. If we're gonna be partners you can't have some stupid phobia of riding a motorcycle. If you do, I'm gonna give you a sped-up version of exposure therapy." Catching the look on Matt's face, he added, "Don't worry, I have a helmet for you too." Mello gestured to a young woman with long dark hair, low-rise skinny jeans, and a halter top who was walking over to them with a large suitcase. When she got to them, she unzipped her bag and took out a red helmet. She handed it to Matt, who took it in his hands awkwardly and unsure of what to do with it.

Mello smirked. "Seems red's more of an appropriate color for you than I first thought. I just got it because it looks good with black, but your hair almost matches it."

Matt nodded. "My mom used to say that my hair could tell me apart from other people in a crowd from a mile away. She could always find me when I got lost in the mall when I was little." Damn it, now his eyes were watering. Blinking hard, he turned to the bike so Mello couldn't see his face and for an acceptable reason for a conversation change. "So, are we going to ride this thing or not? It's such a shame to see it just standing there when it's so clearly begging to be ridden."

Mello stifled a laugh. "Nice choice of words," he muttered. Louder, he answered, "Yeah, we will as soon as you get your helmet on." Then he remembered the delivery girl. "Isabel, thank you very much for your help. You can ride back to the base with Mr. Ross. I hope you had a good time in Mexico with your family."

Matt, donning his helmet, noticed something. Mello treated everyone very professionally and with obvious dominance. Obviously this prostitute was at the bottom of the Mafia food chain, but Rod? He seemed more powerful... And yet Mello treated him like a small child who got the right answer on a math test. Matt wondered what, exactly, Mello's position in the Mafia was. But questions like those could wait. Right now, all he wanted to do was get wherever he was going and sleep.

* * *

After dealing with Isabel, he turned back to Mail- no, it was Matt. Mello knew that he'd always be tripping up, calling Matt 'Matthew' or 'Mail' anyways. Mello could read the obvious effects of jet lag in Matt's slumped shoulders, and would probably be able to see them in his drooped eyes if he wasn't wearing the red helmet. Mello followed Matt's lead and put on his own helmet, strutting to his bike.

"Now, you are not to put your feet anywhere except where I tell you. Failure to comply can result in a scary and painful death. Also you are not allowed to smoke- yes, I saw that pack in your pocket. Not like you'd try to smoke with a helmet on while riding a motorcycle; your IQ tells me that much." He lifted up his visor to see Matt nod in compliance, then got on the bike. He nodded Matt over and watched him get on the bike. Surprisingly, he put his feet exactly where they should go. Mello shook his head in wonder, then twisted his wrist and the bike jumped to life. Matt wrapped his arms around Mello's waist -causing the blonde to almost kick him off- and they took off, zooming towards the base.

* * *

After countless turns, darts, and sudden stops, the engine cut from beneath his and Mello's bodies. He let go of his new boss- _partner's_ waist and stepped off the bike, removing the helmet from his head and shaking off the sweaty bangs sticking to his forehead. He looked at the building in front of him- it seemed like a casual, nondescript thing seen on any old street corner. But if one observed it closer as Matt did, they would also notice the security cameras stragetically positioned around the perimiter of the building, the reinforced steel door, and booby traps in the yellowing grass, ready to probably explode if someone stepped on them. The six steps that led to the door were Matt's greatest enemy at the moment- he just wanted to be able to stagger in and collapse like a drunk person who finally got home.

He sighed and walked the little path leading to the stairs and stopped, dropping onto his knees dramatically. Mello walked by him without a glance -insensitive ass- and took Matt's helmet, placing it on the threshold along with his own. He then said "hey" softly and, as Matt looked, outstretched a hand. At the top of the stairs with an arm outstretched like that, Matt wasn't sure who Mello resembled more- the devil welcoming him to Hell, or an angel welcoming him to Heaven. Figuring it could be either, he stood up and grasped his partner's hand, letting Mello pull him up the stairs. When they were both at even ground, Mello opened the door and gestured him in.

"Welcome home."

* * *

**A/N: Yeah, I don't any of the franchises (Suzuki, Pokemon) mentioned. It is also almost one in the morning so excuse my overemotional apology.**

**GUYS I AM SO SORRY THIS TOOK FOREVER I PROMISE I'LL TRY TO UPDATE MORE. I FEEL SO BAD YOU HAVE NO IDEA.**


	5. Home

**A/N: Oh hey guys so guess what! 1) I'm dedicating a LOT more time to this story (as you can probably notice due to the fact that this isn't like two years after the last chapter) 2) And I made a writing Tumblr! It's letshearitfor . tumblr . com. (sorry for the spaces.) Follow me and receive eternal love~!**

* * *

The next morning, Matt woke up with a giant headache. He rolled over onto his side and blinked open his eyes, trying to remember his dream. Something about leather, growling and... oh, it was gone. He sad up, rubbing his eyes, and stepped out of bed. Standing up, looking around the room, it took him a minute to recall where he was and what he was doing there. His room was surprisingly luxurious for a Mafia hideout- wood floors, a four-poster bed complete with hangings, and nightstands on either side. Besides from the rich quilt that was intricately patterned, however, the room was shockingly bare. No pictures or paintings hung on the white walls, and there was only one small, barred window. As Matt got more used to his settings, he'd have to fix that.

After grabbing some pants and a t-shirt (there was no way in hell he would sleep in anything but his boxers in this Los Angeles weather) and snapping on his goggles, he wandered out of his room into a well-lit corridor. He followed the hall into what seemed like a concrete cave, with pillars dispersed throughout the dank room. It was all gray, and dimly lit with a few fluorescent lights hanging from the ceiling. There were no windows, and TVs and computer monitors littered the room. A zebra-striped couch seemed

This was not a Mafia base. Mafia bases had marble floors, thirty-foot ceilings, and chandeliers. Matt didn't know what it was, but it _wasn't_ a Mafia base. He spotted a familiar shaved head on the couch and walked up behind it. Matt soon realized that Rod was getting a blowjob from Candi, one of his more favorite prostitutes. Before either of them could notice him, he snuck back out of the room and down the hallway, trying to find his room again. God damn it, he shouldn't have shut the door. Opening one at random and peering inside, he was greeted by dark red walls and a blonde in black leather -still?- looking at him.

"Hi there," Mello said. "Can I help you?"

"I don't remember which room is mine. And I closed the door, so..." Matt trailed off, embarassed. Mello seemed to understand. He smiled lightly.

"Yeah, that used to happen to me all the time back when I was new. I knew my boss's room before I knew mine, I asked him for help all the time." He chuckled. "How about we go get breakfast, then I'll give you a quick tour?" Matt nodded, thankful that Mello wasn't yelling at him for being an idiot like his last boss, Jonathan, always did. Before they went back down the hallway, though, Matt grabbed Mello's arm.

"You might not want to go into that cement room off the hall- Rod's getting a fellatio." He tried to put it lightly, blushing in embarrassment for saying such a thing in front of his admittedly attractive boss- _partner._

Mello snorted. "I wasn't planning on taking you there. We all know about his morning routine."

Matt's eyes widened and he shook his head, letting the topic drop like a forty pound weight onto a man's toe. He followed the impatient blonde down the hallway and into a separate room with a state-of-the-art kitchen one would expect in a five-star restaurant. Chrome ovens and counters flourished in the small room, with black-and-white tiling underfoot. There were two giant fridges, and when Mello opened one, it was bursting with...

Chocolate.

The redhead's eyes bugged out so much that he removed his goggles, in fear of scratching a cornea. As he stuttered half-assed questions that mostly contained 'how', Mello grabbed three, opening one and shoving the other two down his pants. He closed the fridge nonchalantly, then with a smirk on his face, said, "That's my fridge. You can find some of your mundane food in the other fridge."

"O...kay..." Matt answered, still in shock about the amount of brown wrappers that one fridge could hold. A rumble in his stomach broke him out of his reverie and he grabbed a quick breakfast, frying up some eggs and making some toast. He didn't think it was that special, until he saw Mello watching him make the food with a gaping mouth full of half-chewed chocolate.

"What?" he asked, confused by Mello's reaction.

"You're making food. So easily."

"Uh... Yeah. Have you never made yourself your own food?"

"Nope. The men do when I'm not just eating chocolate for the day."

Matt swallowed the bile rising in his throat. Ugh, who on Earth would eat just chocolate for an entire twenty-four hour period? Welll, hey. Each to their own. He nodded, then finished preparing his breakfast and ate it. When he finished, they left the kitchen, Mello continued their tour, marking out which rooms to go into, which rooms to _never_ go into, and at the end, his and Matt's rooms. Matt smiled, thanking Mello for the tour, and went to his room to waste the rest of the day in Hyrule, trying to save the princess Zelda.

* * *

After nightfall, Mello knocked on Matt's door. Receiving a grunt, he walked in. Matt was slouched down on the bed, smoking and playing a video game on a red DS. By the lack of light and fumes, that's what he'd been doing all day. Mello refrained from yelling at Matt for poisoning the air, knowing that that wasn't something partners did. He sat down at the foot of Matt's bed, feet on the ground.

"Matt," he said instead. When he didn't get a response, he took Matt's DS, saved it, and closed it.

"Matthew." he stated again. "It's dinnertime. Come on, let's go eat." Matt stopped glaring at Mello at the word 'dinnertime,' instead leaping up and holding the door open for Mello, who simply shook his head. At the question forming in Matt's eyes -that Mello was surprised he could see in the dim light-, he simply smirked and explained.

"You're going to bring us to dinner. I'm not going to help you at all, you're just going to lead us there." As Mello spoke, Matt's expression swiftly changed from one of confusion to an 'are you fucking kidding me.' Coincidentally, those were the next words out of the gamer's mouth.

"Nope!" Mello said this brightly, popping the _p_ and springing off of Matt's bed. He smiled gleefully as Matt set his shoulders determinedly and took a right out of his room- the correct way to go, Mello mused. This was surprising because none of the other men went the right way when Mello forced them to lead him to the dining room. Matt's definitely someone different- someone definitely partner material.

Even more surprising was that Matt walked the hallways, taking turns until they reached the dining room in the same route Mello always used.

* * *

Matt was feeling proud of himself for leading Mello straight to the dining room. Having a photographic memory really helped sometimes, even in ways he didn't expect. Maybe the video games weren't as useless as Jonathan made him think they were. Or maybe Wammy's taught him more than how to pick locks and break into people's houses.

Matt's pride and self-confidence drained the second he walked into the dining room, though. The men were all there, looking big and tough and _dangerous._ Matt would have ran right out of the room had it not been for Mello blocking the doorway. Slowly, shakily, he walked down the table to the only seat left open- the one right next to the head, where Mello sat after Matt took his place. Mello smiled to all the men and nodded once. They suddenly broke into conversation and laughter, reminding Matt of the dwarves visiting Bilbo's house in _The Hobbit._ He never would have expected such fearsome looking men to be asking each other how their kids were doing in school, and what the doctor said about their back. Matt sat silently, timidly picking at his food until Mello nudged his shoulder.

"How about the graphics in Halo 4?" he asked, a sly smile spreading across his face. Mello played video games! Matt launched into a long tangent about how they compared to Reach and other games.

The two men eventually drowned in a conversation of video games that somehow led to politics and their views on multiple issues. It turns out they were both for better mental health treatment and cuts in spending on military, but only Matt was for stricter gun control. They were both for gay marriage but for different reasons- Matt because he _was_ gay and Mello because it's a basic human right. He explained how his religion brought him up believing that it was wrong, but he said how "Just because something seems wrong to me doesn't mean it shouldn't be allowed to happen if other people become free from oppression."

Matt eventually retired to his room, smiling as he fell into another deep, peaceful slumber. Mello was beginning to actually feel like a partner more than a boss..

* * *

**A/N: I am really trying to update better, BUT I have midterms next week. Don't expect anything for a while (as I'm sure you're used to by now.)**


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